


Kisses: Imaginary

by out_there



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-10
Updated: 2005-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing sweeter than the kiss that didn't happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses: Imaginary

**Author's Note:**

> Three kissing AUs originally started for [](http://slodwick.livejournal.com/profile)[**slodwick**](http://slodwick.livejournal.com/) and somehow finished with [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/)'s encouragement. Thanks to [](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/profile)[**phoebesmum**](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/) for betaing.

_Imaginary: adj. Having existence only in the imagination; unreal; lacking factual reality._

  
 **but life's no storybook**

The club was dark and smoky. The occasional flash of neon-colored lights didn't show the crowd, it only outlined the sweaty bodies on the dance floor. Dan spotted a glimpse of dark leather to his right, long blonde strands of hair on his other side. The strong line of a stubble-covered jaw in front of him. Silhouettes of strangers, pressed intimately close.

He didn't need to see to know the girl behind him was pressed against him like a second skin, the curves of her breasts flattened against his back. The guy in front of him, the unshaven guy, was rocking his hips, grinding leather against Dan's denim jeans, and sliding his hands across Dan's stomach.

Dan closed his eyes and stretched his head back. The neon lights strobed behind his eyelids in shades of gold and red. All he wanted was another drink. Something, anything, to keep tonight blurred and hazy.

What he really wanted was a joint. Something he could smoke, or snort, or swallow. But there were reasons why he didn't do that any more. He was drunk enough that he could skim right past those thoughts with little more than the sound of brakes screeching in his head and the splash of scarlet blood on his hands.

Dan rubbed his moist hands on his jeans, knowing that his palms were sweaty. Nothing more, nothing damning.

The music slipped into something faster, a heavy bass beat vibrating down his spine. Dan pulled away from his unknown dance partners, and headed over to the bar. He wasn't old enough to be served. Technically, he wasn't old enough to be in this club, but Dan had never let age stop him from over-indulging.

He'd never let anything stop him.

There was a crowd around the bar, three or four people deep. Dan fingered the notes in his pocket, too drunk to know how much he'd spent but still sober enough to know he could afford a few more tequila shots before it ate into his cab fare back to the station.

He headed up to one end of the bar and started jostling through the crowd. Pressing one shoulder first, he eased between the press of bodies and shouted out an order for two shots.

That was when he spotted Casey. Not that he'd known it was Casey back then. Back then, Dan had spotted a guy who'd been tending bar when he first came in. It was later, much later, that he put a name to the broad shoulders and strong arms.

Dan downed one shot and then took the other over to the former bartender. Standing under harsh fluorescent lights, the guy was clean-shaven and tow-headed, and obviously out of his depth.

Dan walked right up to him and then stopped, just a little too close for the guy's comfort. Leaning forward their cheeks almost brushed, but Dan pretended it was so he could be heard over the pounding music. "Bad day?"

Casey took a half-step backward and ran a hand through his hair. "You could say that," he almost-yelled over the noise.

"Here." Dan pressed the shot glass into Casey's hand. The golden tequila splashed over his fingers. "It helps the bad days."

Casey shrugged, a gesture that wasn't so familiar to Dan back then. Then he swallowed the tequila like someone used to heavy drinking. "Thanks."

Dan licked the spilled tequila off his hand. Slowly. Casey swallowed, and it was all the sign Dan needed.

"Do you know the way out of here?" Casey asked, this time leaning close enough to speak the words into Dan's ear.

With a tilt of his head, he led Casey through the crowd, past the barely-covered flesh and the inviting smiles. Outside the club the sky was dark, and Dan looked for stars as the muffled thud of bass roiled through him. He couldn't see any. "No stars," he said by way of explanation.

"You've drunk quite a bit tonight, haven't you?"

"Not really," Dan replied. Under the streetlight, the guy he'd later know as Casey looked different. Blond hair that was actually a mousey brown, cool eyes that watched him too closely. Plain black pants, plain grey shirt, and shoes polished to a shine. "Nice shoes."

"Thanks." Casey smiled uncertainly, as if he didn't know whether or not he was being ridiculed.

The sidewalk felt solid under Dan's feet but he trusted the brick wall behind him more. "Want to tell me about your bad day?"

"Lost my keys. Left my wallet at home. Found out that the second job isn't going to cover my rent, which means I need another job." Casey sighed and Dan let his gaze wander as Casey talked. "Or I need to move. Or I need to withdraw from the masters program and save up for a bit."

Dan nodded, as if he actually cared. "Want to come home with me?"

There was a pause as Dan pushed himself away from the wall, then Casey said, "Lead on, MacDuff. I'll follow you."

Dan was too drunk to point out that it was *lay* on, not lead on. He wasn't too drunk to remember that he had Rick's spare keys in his pocket, or that Rick & Co were away this week.

The couple of blocks passed in silence, or as close to silence as New York got. Traffic and people, background chatter and music drifting between hulking skyscrapers and rundown apartment buildings. Dan liked New York; it was as fractured and as busy as the thoughts inside his own skull.

There was a squeal of tires and a siren sounded a few streets away, then he was pulling Casey through the doorway and up the stairs. One hand tangled in soft cotton and the other tugged at Casey's not-so-short hair as he kissed him halfway up the stairs.

  
 **eyes wide, fresh heart**

Muscles. Many -- extremely well-toned -- muscles.

That had been Dan's initial thought when he first saw Casey. He was on the parallel bars at the time, shifting his weight from one bare and glistening arm to the other, and Dan had needed to stop, swallow and catch his breath.

In the back of his head, Dan could hear Popeye chuckling and saying, "I got mus-kels on me mus-kels." It was surprisingly appropriate. Casey was built like Michelangelo's wet-dream: broad shoulders, thick biceps, chiseled chest narrowing to slim hips and strong thighs. It was the type of body designed for dirty thoughts and shameful fantasies.

The personality didn't match at all.

Where Casey should have been smug and self-assured, he was earnest. He was conscientious and sweet. In short, he was surprisingly likeable, which made Dan feel a little guilty. It was one thing fantasizing about someone when you knew they were a jerk, when you knew the attraction was only skin-deep. It was a little stranger when you genuinely liked the guy.

Because then... well. Then, you were at risk. At risk of becoming flustered when he smiled at you; at risk of reading a little more into invitations to crash for the night. You were at risk of doing something stupid. Like saying, "You're really hot," or "If you weren't straight, I think we could have some fun," or even worse, "Hey, I have a total crush on you."

Or if you were drunk, like Dan was right now, there was the risk of leaning closer to Casey, trailing one hand over the firm muscles of his arm and being surprised when Casey didn't pull back. Because he didn't; he just sat there, eyes wide and glassy, watching Dan's fingers.

"Danny?" Casey frowned, as if finding actual words required too much concentration -- and maybe, after six shots of Jgermeister, it did -- and closed his eyes for a moment. "You're staying here tonight, right?"

Dan's fingers reached Casey's inner elbow. He traced over the creased skin and then slid his hand up, slowly moving towards Casey's shoulder. "Yeah."

"Good, 'cause..." Casey groaned, a low, tired sound that made Dan think of dark chocolate and porn. Flopping a hand in the rough direction of the dorm room door, Casey said, "Good. I don't think I could lock the door after you otherwise."

"Okay." Dan palmed the ball of Casey's shoulder. Beneath his fingers, he could feel the bones and muscles shift.

Casey turned his head sideways and rested his cheek on the back of Dan's hand. His cheek was soft, clean-shaven; smooth against Dan's skin as Casey twisted his head and tried to get comfortable. "Good."

Dan had to swallow. "Good?"

"Good that you're staying," Casey said slowly, his eyelids drifting shut. "I'm glad that you're staying."

"Yeah?"

Casey gave him a big, dopey smile. "I like you here."

Dan could hear his pulse thundering through his ears, could feel it clamoring in his temples as he took a deep breath and tried not to grin like an enamored idiot. It was no use. Casey's eyes were already closed.

Casey was taking deep, regular breaths and Dan figured he was already asleep. Or passed out.

Dan licked his lips, tempted by something he knew he shouldn't do. It was stupid and ridiculous, but how often did he get a chance like this? Never. He never got chances like this, so it would be really stupid to not take advantage of it. Or so Dan told himself as he leaned closer to Casey.

He got within an inch of Casey's lips and froze, but Casey didn't stir.

Swallowing, he screwed up his courage, ignored the ratta-tat-tat of his nervous heart, and gently, ever so gently, touched Casey's lips with his.

That's all it was supposed to be. Just a touch, a quick stolen caress; it was all he wanted. But then Casey's arm was looped around his neck, pulling Dan down, and Casey's mouth was opening under his. He couldn't have pulled back -- not with Casey holding him -- but he didn't even try. He was too distracted by the soft feel of Casey's lips against his and the lazy way Casey's tongue was sliding out to taste his mouth.

And then there were the sounds. These dark, half-swallowed moans that Casey made as his hand skimmed down Dan's back.

It left him too turned on to think about stopping. Too hard to think about anything except "more" and "hot" and "God, yes".

He was pressing up against Casey, feeling reckless as he spread his knees and pressed his trapped cock against Casey's hip, grinding down and trying to kiss and needing to breathe.

When he pulled away, gasping against Casey's neck, Casey sounded pretty breathless too. "Danny?"

Dan nodded and Casey's hands came up to settle on his shoulders, to push him away.

"I really think," Casey said, sounding confused and young, "I need to sleep now."

Dan scrambled off him, backing over to the unoccupied side of the bed where he wouldn't be tempted to touch, or to beg, or to make this any worse. "Okay."

Casey pushed himself up, took a few unsteady steps over to the other bed, and then dropped onto it with an audible "whomp!" He didn't pull back the covers. He just lay there and dragged a pillow closer to his head. "Night, Danny."

Dan did pull his covers up -- all the way up to his chin -- and stretched his toes towards the end of the bed. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the pattern of Casey's snoring.

***

The next morning, Dan woke up with his head protesting, his stomach revolting, and his mouth declaring a war against humanity. He groaned and his only consolation was that Casey was going to feel just as bad.

That was less than comforting when Casey called out, "Hey. You're awake."

Nobody who felt like this could sound that cheery. Hence, it stood to reason, that Casey didn't feel like this. "I'm not awake. I'm wishing I was dead. There's a difference."

"You want some toast? Orange juice? I brought it up from the cafeteria."

Casey set the glass and plate beside Dan's bed. The juice looked disgustingly bright, but the toast smelled good. "Can I die first?"

"Eat first. Then you can die somewhere more comfortable than my room."

Dan shifted onto his side, and took a slice of toast. "Your room's pretty comfy," he said, as he bit down.

"I meant comfortable for me," Casey corrected. "I like having a single. I don't want to spend the rest of the semester sharing with a corpse."

Dan snorted, but decided it was more important to finish eating than to sting Casey with a witty comeback. Besides, he couldn't think of a witty comeback.

"So." Casey rocked back and forth on his feet, his hands buried in the pockets of his worn blue jeans. "About last night..."

"What about it?" Dan finished the second piece of toast and reached for the orange juice. He still felt sub-human, but he was definitely alive.

Casey sat down heavily on the other bed, and it creaked in protest. "Well..."

Dan forced himself to swallow and tried to stay calm. Casey had been very drunk. It was doubtful that he even remembered last night. "Yeah?"

"You kissed me."

"You noticed, huh?"

"I noticed." Casey nodded, and kept nodding for a long minute. He reminded Dan of one of those bobble head toys. "So..."

"So what, Casey?" Dan's tone was a little sharper than he meant it to be, and Casey's eyes widened.

"So what happens now?"

"I apologize. Either you forgive me and we remain friends, or..." Dan sighed. This was a conversation he'd had a few too many times, but normally it wasn't over a kiss. Normally he knew he was going to lose the friendship, but being on his knees with another guy's cock in his mouth seemed worth it. This time, he didn't even have that memory. "Or you don't. It's a pretty simple choice."

Casey frowned. "I don't like either of those choices."

"Then what do you want to do?"

"I want you to keep coming over. And I want you to keep staying over on weekends," Casey said, his mouth twitching into an uncertain smile.

Dan sat up, crankily pushing the covers down. "So it's basically the first option."

"Not really."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Why not?"

"I don't want you to apologize," Casey said, standing up. He walked over to Dan's bed and wrapped a hand around the back of Dan's neck. "I don't..."

Dan's throat went dry. Casey was watching him like... well, like the way he looked at a really good piece of chocolate cake or a paper that had a big, red "A" scribbled across it. It was far too early in the morning for Dan to figure out what that meant.

Luckily, Casey solved it for him. He leaned down, gave Dan's neck a quick squeeze and then pressed a light kiss to Dan's forehead. Then he rested his forehead against Dan's, right against the spot that he'd kissed, and smiled. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Dan replied, his face splitting into a wide grin, "that's good."

  
 **until you feel the daylight**

There were three quick raps on his door before Casey opened it and found Danny standing in his doorway, still in his dress whites. "Aren't you supposed to be, you know, packing?"

"I leave base tomorrow."

Danny's red tongue swiped across his upper lip. Casey wanted to follow its path, to drag his thumb across the wet skin. He clenched his hands behind his back, keeping temptation literally out of reach. "That's why you need to pack tonight."

"I already have," Danny said, stepping inside, forcing Casey to take a belated step backwards. For a moment they were a little too close, and Casey had to remind himself of DADT and dishonorable discharges and that he only had thirty-eight days left of service.

He crossed the room, picked up the novel he'd been reading, and tried to pretend that Danny was a nuisance, an annoyance (and not because he was everything Casey couldn't have, shouldn't want while he was here). "For the last eight weeks, Danny, you've handed in every assessment piece at the last possible moment. But tonight you've packed?"

"I'm feeling a distinct level of doubt. I'm hurt, man, really." Danny spread a hand across his chest, tan fingers pressed against the startling white of his jacket. "Especially seeing as I finally took your advice and stopped procrastinating."

Casey blinked. Danny's expression was mischievous, naughty, and left Casey wanting to back away, to get out of here, and far away from the bed sitting in the middle of the room.

"Danny, you should probably get a good night's sleep--"

Eyes narrowed, Danny shook his head. He took a step forward and started pulling at his buttons, slow and sure.

This was where Casey was supposed to say stop, don't, you shouldn't. He was supposed to object; not be struck dumb, swallowing as Dan shrugged out of his jacket and laid it neatly over the back of the chair.

Then Dan started on his shirt, cuff buttons first, followed by his collar. A warm V of tanned skin, framed by the clean lines of ironed cotton, and as Danny's hands worked lower, a dark smattering of hair trailing down. The sound of his own ragged breathing was loud in Casey's ears, and he could feel the sweat breaking out on the back of his neck, but the spell was broken when Danny spoke.

"I was expecting a little more participation," Danny said, his soft mouth curving up.

"Danny, we can't. This isn't--" Casey's arms were wrapped around his chest. He couldn't remember dropping his book, but it was lying with its pages spread against the carpet, the spine standing up. "This isn't something we can do. You know that."

"It's my last night on base. Tomorrow, me and the rest of the Top Gun wannabes get sent back, and there's very little chance I'll see you again." Danny was advancing on him, and Casey couldn't stop staring at the dark belt cutting across the white pleats, couldn't stop wanting what he shouldn't. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong," Casey said, voice shaking.

Danny laughed and leaned forward -- slow enough that Casey could have moved, could have avoided it -- and kissed him.

Casey stood frozen, his fingers clenching at his sides, desperately trying not to reach out. Telling himself it didn't matter if he let Dan kiss him, as long as he didn't kiss back. And it didn't matter if he kissed back, didn't matter if he traced Dan's lips, as long as he didn't lean in. And it didn't matter if he leaned closer, if he chased Danny's mouth and tried to conquer him with teeth and tongue, as long as he didn't reach out.

His hands settled on bare shoulders, grasped onto the dry warmth of Danny's skin, and Casey knew he was lost.

He was lost, and wrong, and searching, but Danny was there: hands on Casey's chest, blunt fingernails dragging over his T-shirt, and pulling it up and off. Mouth on Casey's, and bare skin against skin, as he tugged at Casey's jeans.

Casey knew this was the moment. This was the last stand, the last chance to reclaim who he was, who he wanted to be, and he gave up with nothing more than a sigh. Resting his forehead on Dan's shoulder, he let it happen. Let Danny pull his zipper down, let Danny slide his hands over Casey's hips, pushing at jeans and boxers.

Danny lowered himself to one knee, running his hands down the outside of Casey's legs until the denim was puddled around Casey's ankles. Casey found it hard to look away as he lifted one foot out, and then the other. He was standing there, utterly naked. He should have been mortified -- Dan was watching him so closely, so intently, and he was exposed, flaws and all, unable to hide -- instead, he was mesmerized by the darkness of Dan's eyes.

Then Danny settled his hands on Casey's hips and then, without teasing, without anything other than raw, wanton yearning, wrapped his lips around Casey's cock. Wet and warm and lethal, and if that wasn't enough to drive Casey insane, Dan kept watching him, staring up as if he needed to see, needed to know Casey's every expression.

Casey reached out a tentative hand, ghosting fingertips across Danny's cheek, down the curve of an ear. Along the side of Danny's stretched lips, feeling the slide of his own cock -- slick from Danny's mouth -- as Dan moved back and forth. Danny groaned, and Casey felt it all the way up to his balls, shivery and electric up his spine.

He started thrusting, had to get closer, deeper. Dan's hands were on his thighs, fingers digging into muscle, but he didn't look away. Didn't tell Casey 'stop' or 'don't'.

Casey could feel it clawing up his insides, need and want and desperation, weeks of starving denial and tedious control spilling out of him while Danny swallowed. While Danny held him, he exploded and shattered.

The light seemed too bright when Casey opened his eyes. His room looked sharp and harsh, and the only softness was in Danny's reddened lips, in Danny's gaze. In the way Danny kissed him after he stood up, lazy and confident.

That kiss said it all.


End file.
